


RC #133,316,666 Mission #3: Zero-Sum Game

by SkarmorySilver



Series: Protectors of the Plot Continuum: Response Center #133,316,666 [4]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Protectors of the Plot Continuum
Genre: Actually not too bad, Blunde, Department of Mary Sues, Not Canon Compliant, PPC Mission, Sporking - Freeform, Timeline What Timeline, badfic, incompleteness and dead Peeta aside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkarmorySilver/pseuds/SkarmorySilver
Summary: In which Rayner restocks his fridge.





	RC #133,316,666 Mission #3: Zero-Sum Game

**Author's Note:**

> \- **Copyright Disclaimer:** The PPC and all related property belong to Jay and Acacia. _My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic_ (Rayner's home continuum) belongs to Hasbro and Lauren Faust. _The Hunger Games_ belongs to Suzanne Collins. Agent Rayner Blitzkrieg belongs to me, and is based off [Trotsworth](http://trotsworth.deviantart.com/)'s character, Rainbow Blitz. Agent Evangeline von Lilith also belongs to me.  
>  The fic being sporked, ["Game of Chance"](http://www.quibblo.com/quiz/g2GGzju/Game-of-Chance-An-HG-fanfic?story_chapter=1), belongs to [PhoenixPheather](http://www.quibblo.com/user/PhoenixPheather), who may kindly keep it.
> 
> \- **Betas:** Desdendelle, Hieronymus Graubart, and dragon master 7.
> 
> \- **Rating:** T/PG-13 - Though with surprisingly less violence than a Hunger Games reader might expect.
> 
> \- **Original posting date:** February 22, 2015
> 
> \- **Note:** For the upload of this mission to AO3, Rayner's dialogue has been modified to include the speech patterns given to him since 2017.
> 
> \- ["Original Document"](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Vu18gm_tr6PwnuzWkqPQVc0xigNfn_Xy9v_ExXUfPFw/edit?usp=sharing)  
> 

 

Cover Illustration:  [ Hunger Games SD ](http://daekazu.deviantart.com/art/Hunger-Games-SD-291444872) by  [ daekazu ](http://daekazu.deviantart.com/)

> “Fire is catching! And if _we_ burn, then _you_ burn with us!”
> 
> — Katniss Everdeen, _Mockingjay_ (2010)
> 
>  

**Pre-Mission**

 

**[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUPANDATEMSLEEPYHEADEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!!!]**

“You’ve gotta be bucking _kiddin’_  me,” Rayner snarled through clenched, jagged teeth, checking the clock on his bedside table. “Four in the mornin’ and _this_ happens?!”

Swinging his big bare feet out of his bed, he planted them upon the Generic Floor, only to feel something sinuous and scaly move underneath them.

With a startled yelp, he pulled his feet up. The shadowy thing immediately cursed in German before vanishing under his bed, muttering in a familiar female voice about idiots stepping on her tail.

“E.V.L.!” Rayner snorted. “What are _you_ doin’ here?!”

“You left your summoning circle open last night, doofus,” she replied snidely. “I thought I’d spend the night here for once. The space beneath your bed is surprisingly comfy. Anyway, did I startle you?”

“You’re supposed to be in your hyperspace prison cell!” he brayed angrily. “And for the record, _yes._ I’ll have you know right now — I don’t like steppin’ on something in my bare feet. Celestia’s mane, if you were _seriously_ tryin’ to make me think I trod on a snake or something…”

“What’s the problem with going barefoot, Pony Boy?”

He blushed a little. “Well, it’s just… My feet are insanely ticklish. And if you try to take advantage of that, I’ll bite you in half!” he added fiercely.

“Why would I?” she chuckled from beneath the bed. “You don’t see me that much after all, do you?”

He shrugged, though he still kept his legs crossed, just in case.

E.V.L. slid out from her hiding spot, _sans_ head. “So, what’s the deal this time?”

Her voice had spoken from behind her, making her realize what she was missing. She stuck her tail back under the bed while Rayner motioned for Eren Yager the mini-Titan to fetch him his boots.

“Another mission, apparently,” he replied, slipping his boots on; a moment later, he stood up and headed over to the console, before pushing the big red button.

“ _Hunger Games_ fic,” he growled. “This one’s fairly short, only two chapters and left hanging. Dunno whether that’s a good thing, though.”

“Who cares?” E.V.L. replied, withdrawing her tail from under the bed, her severed head chewing upon the pointed tip. “Let’s just get this over with. Anything we should take along with us?”

“The Rainbolt, definitely,” he replied. When she gave him a puzzled look, he added, “The enchanted diamond sword from our last mission. Salvo was the one who named it — I wanted somethin’ 20% cooler, but it kinda stuck. I’ll disguise it as somethin’ canonical, don’t worry.”

“Can we stay in our usual forms or do we have to become humans again?” the bound ex-Ficubus asked, massaging her tail between two of her toes.

“Yeah, I think we may have to disguise ourselves too, just in case,” he replied, stuffing a small metallic box into his bag. Just in case. “Capitol folk?”

“Go on ahead. As long as we just get this over with already.”

“Sure, sure. At least gimme a moment to get a midnight snack before we go, though.”

“Don’t bother,” said E.V.L. “Last I checked, the cooling unit for your comestibles looked pretty barren.”

He glared at her. “You… _raided my fridge…_ while I was asleep?”

“I — uh, well — No, not really. Actually, not. It didn’t have that much when I opened it.”

His magenta eyes narrowed. “I don’t always eat at the Cafeteria, y’know. Did you really have to be _that_ insensitive?”

“Knowing you, probably. But we can argue later — let’s just worry about our food supply first.”

He shook his head before opening up a portal. “Ugh, fine. Let’s — and may the odds be _never_ in their favor!”

 

* * *

 

 

**The Mission**

 

 

> **I need characters.**
> 
> **No Mary Sues.**
> 
> **Before posting, google Mary Sue Litmus Test and try your character.**

 

Rayner and E.V.L. arrived just in time for the Author’s Note to echo around them. Rayner now had a fancy light blue suit, but kept his rainbow hair and pointed teeth; the Rainbolt was now a deadly-looking machete attached to his belt. E.V.L., meanwhile, looked like a goth girl with scales on her upper arms, red talons for fingernails, a serpentine tail, and long black hair that covered part of her face.

Before the agents could say anything, the badfic showed a template for the character bios that readers could send in.

“Mary Sue Litmus Test?” E.V.L. asked skeptically.

“Ah, yes. The old standby for determining whether your character is a Mary Sue.”

She raised her eyebrow. “So, how does it work?”

“Basically, you look for a specific set of characteristics, usually Speshul or trajeck traits. Generally, the more items a character scores on the Litmus Test, the more likely she’s a Sue.”

“Generally?”

“It’s not always the case — if you can come up with a damn good explanation of why the character has that trait, it’s… passable. But most badfic writers don’t know that. Or care.”

“So, what would happen if I was subjected to one of those?”

He shuddered at the thought. “Don’t ask that again. Seriously.”

 

 

> **The games:**
> 
> **I'm playing this as a game. NO ONE WILL WIN BECAUSE OF BIAS.**
> 
> **The title is 'Game of Chance' because a shuffling of the deck decides your character's fate. I have twenty four cards, and I decide who's gonna die by the card I pull. I have a coin marked "killed" on one side and "arena" on the other. Up to fate.**
> 
> **Sign up, if you want.**
> 
> **I'm sure this will be interesting.**

 

The agents sat down upon the Generic Floor of the pre-fic space to watch the Words go by.

“About as interestin’ as watching paint dry,” Rayner snorted.

“Rayner, if my hair looked like an onyx-colored substance with highlights like sapphire at midnight, with the texture and consistency of smoke made physical… do you think the Mary Sue Litmus Test result in a positive for it?” asked E.V.L.

Rayner gagged and stared metaphorical daggers at her.

“I’m not trying to annoy you,” she added. “I was just curious.”

He shook his head angrily, as though tossing his mane. “For the record, with prose that urple, it probably _would_. And if you want me to look at your hair to see whether that’s really the case, you can go get bucked.”

“Oh, so being a Sue-wraith was my fault?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes. It was. Now shut up before I take a bite outta you.”

The agents sat through a number of character bios, some stranger than others.

“Okay, what kind of family names their kid Apple?” E.V.L. asked. “Or Windigo? _Korsadia?_ And muddy blue eyes? Or brown-blue? And especially grey-purple?”

“I can understand that these names all technically fit the requirements of the character bio — that they’re nouns or derivations thereof, like Katniss, Gale, or Rue — but _Windigo?_ That’s the name of those hatemongerin’ winter spirits from my home continuum!”

“I’m pretty sure they meant ‘Wendigo’. That’s what those things are based off, right?”

“Most likely. But still, I expected _reasonable_ names here! _None_ of these ones fit the continuum we’re dealing with! Okay, Apple, maybe, but the rest of them…”

“But what about the rest of the character bios?”

Rayner huffed impatiently. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get to see how their characteristics will work out. But a badfic is a badfic, so…”

 

 

> **I FORGOT TO MENTION, THIS TAKES PLACE IN THE HUNDREDTH YEAR OF THE HUNGER GAMES. KATNISS IS ALSO THE SOLE VICTOR OF THE HUNGER GAMES.**
> 
> **Peeta is dead. Sorry, fangirls.**
> 
> **THIS WILL UPDATE WHEN I GET NEW CHARACTERS.**
> 
> **If accepted, they will appear up there.**

 

“ _Ach du Scheiße_ ,” E.V.L. swore. “Timeline distortion _and_ character killing? There goes the canon.”

The agents stood up and prepared to enter the fic proper. Rayner looked at his partner, a little puzzled. “You know, I’ve always wondered… Where didja learn to speak German, anyway?”

“I _may_ have picked it up from Mephistopheles when I was a badfic character,” E.V.L. replied. “That guy’s traditionally from German folklore and not _The Divine Comedy_ , but my old author wasn’t specific about the works of demonology he included in his writing. And just FYI, I happen to know some Italian as well.”

“Dante was Italian, so no surprise there. Anyway — wait, _WHAT?! Peeta is DEAD?! WHY I OUGHTA —”_

He lost his ability to speak coherently after that, and spent the next minute letting out a long string of angry horse noises.

“Lemme guess. You like Peeta, don’t you?” E.V.L. asked.

“Like him? _Like him?!_ That baker boy was _the entire applebuckin’ reason_ I made it through the entire princess-damned trilogy! Killing him off is not only despicable by itself, but it also nullifies _the entire bucking plot after the end of the first book!_ ”

“ _Ach du Scheiße_ ,” E.V.L. repeated, more slowly this time.

With that, the agents finally made their way into the first chapter: “ **Agriculture - Apple’s Story** ”. Another in-text Author’s Note echoed around them.

 

 

> **I decided the remaining tributes will simply be extras. What we do have as applicated tributes will focus on them as the main characters.**

 

“Lucky for them,” E.V.L. hissed under her breath.

“All right, we start with Apple Lendigo,” said Rayner. “See if she’s a Sue or not.”

“What about Peeta?” asked E.V.L.

“Plot hole,” Rayner said quickly. “Get the guy out of there ASAP. And probably clear up a _lotta_ things with everyone in the meantime.”

“Duly noted.”

 

 

> **Apple Lendigo sat up in bed, attempting to swing her legs over the side and ultimately failing. She laid down and barrel rolled into her awaiting wheelchair. Apple grabbed a cab of oil and squirted some into the rusty wheel frame made of old pipes, then wheeled to her wardrobe to get dressed.**
> 
> **Apple, about two years ago, had fallen out of a tree in the orchard where he worked, paralyzing her from the waist down. She still was in the habit of trying to use her legs at points.**

 

Bizarrely, Apple not only momentarily changed into a boy, but also managed to pick up an entire car full of oil, somehow, and used it as a lubricant bottle.

“I have no idea what in Cocytus the fic meant when it mentioned the ‘cab of oil’,” E.V.L. muttered. “You think it could’ve been referring to those squeezy bottles mechanics use sometimes?”

“Maybe,” her partner replied through clenched, pointed teeth. “The prose sounds slightly beige, but it’s okay. And honestly, so is Apple.”

Apple headed to the living room for breakfast, which consisted of **oatmeal and smuggled peaches**. Rayner couldn’t resist sneaking one off the table when nobody was looking. His partner was Not Amused.

“People are starving in this world, and you have the audacity to sneak food off someone’s table?” she hissed. “How dare you, being so insensitive like that.”

“We’re Capitol folk,” he replied, taking a bite out of the fruit. “Did you honestly expect anything else?”

She glared at him as he continued eating.

 

 

> **Apple downed the meager meal and headed for the door. "By the time I get to the square, it will be time for them to draw the names. We'd better hurry." Her mother followed after her. "Remember that girl who won the last Quarter Quell? Katniss Everdeen? Our tributes will be the polar opposite." Apple heard her mom chuckle under her breath.**

 

“In what sense?!” Rayner snapped. “I don’t recall such a thing being brought up in the actual books! Let’s go, we don’t want to miss the reaping.”

They portaled over to the event in question, joining the crowd of generic spectators while Effie Trinket, the canonical escort, drew Apple’s name along with that of Domingo Wood, a twelve-year-old boy.

Upon being congratulated, Apple proceeded to sass Effie by saying, “ **I'm sure it is, to the person who is not dying in a week's time.** ”

“Effie is the escort of District 12, not 11,” Rayner fumed. “And it’s also worth pointin’ out that there were only 75 Hunger Games, since the rebellion took place after the third Quarter Quell. Get the neuralyzer and RA. We’ve gotta put her back where she belongs.”

“District 12 and the proper time period?” said E.V.L. “Not a problem at all.”

Then **Effie's eye twitched for less than a second, then led them away to the train** . The Words took this to mean that her eye literally popped out of her socket, and the tributes were somehow compelled to follow it. The agents stared at the scene in stark horror, and Rayner actually had to turn away, his face covered. He’d almost completely forgotten about his bloodlust, and the _last_ thing he wanted right now was to attack a canon.

“Okay, _that’s_ a problem,” E.V.L. understated.

Rayner immediately took out the small metal box he’d packed and opened it. Inside was a collection of syringes full of a strange liquid, one of which he took and jammed into his arm.

“Equine analgesic sedative,” he explained groggily. “Prescription from Dr. Appleday. I’ve had to take it daily since the Sunflower decided to crack down on my bloodlust.”

“Knowing you, I can understand why you’d need it,” she replied, earning a glare from him as he passed her the RA.

“Before I buck your head off, why don’t you get Effie to Medical? I’ll follow you and take care of the others.”

E.V.L. shrugged, and dashed off through the crowd with her partner in tow. A few Generic Peacemakers blocked their path, but they ducked and weaved past them and caught up with Effie, grabbing her runaway eye with her other hand just before it could roll off the gap between the train and the platform.

“What’s going on?!” Effie cried out, before feeling her empty eye socket and letting out a small shriek of horror.

“The doctor will see you now, Mrs. Trinket,” said E.V.L., dropping Effie’s eye into her hands and shoving her through the portal to Medical. Rayner, meanwhile, took out his neuralyzer and aimed it at the OCs. _FLASH!_

“We were never here, you are from District 11, there are no more Hunger Games, you’ve never met Effie Trinket, and you are free to live as you please now that the government’s been toppled,” he said, opening a portal back to the center of the district before ushering them through. “Have a nice day!”

Once that was done, she headed back to Rayner and gave the gadgets back to him. Job done.

“Next chapter?” she asked.

“Next chapter,” he replied, opening the portal to Chapter Four (“ **Technoculture- Szatan's Story** ”). Another Author’s Note promptly assaulted them.

 

 

> **(Wow, I completely forgot one of the prep team's lady's name is Octavia. HEY, LOOKIT ME! I'M A MORON! and yes, there will be inaccuracies. Sorry. I've got all three books in front of me and I'm trying my hardest.)**

 

“There are _already_ inaccuracies!” Rayner brayed furiously, finishing the rest of his peach and tossing the pit over his shoulder. “Props for acknowledgin’ some of them, but still…”

“I thought this fic was idiotic for different reasons,” E.V.L. replied.

As the agents watched, the new character Szatan showed up, and promptly tripped. The fic briefly described how his **greyish** eyes had a milky film, and followed up with an in-text Author’s Note: “ **(Author's note: I know albinism isn't a disease, but people living in a post-apocalyptic world wouldn't.)** ”

“Vision problems as a result of albinism are actually pretty reasonable,” said E.V.L., idly swatting the Author’s Note away with her tail. It crashed into some odds and ends out of the sight of the agents, complete with the sound of a random cat yowling in surprise. “Not too keen on the milky film around the eyes, though. I always thought they were supposed to be red.”

Rayner ground his fangs experimentally. “I know a… friend… who’s albino, and yeah, she does have pinkish red eyes. But that’s because the lack of pigment in the eye makes the blood vessels visible. People with albinism can also get blue, brown, and occasionally purple eyes, though.”

“I shouldn’t list grey-purple eyes on an albino character as a charge, then?”

“Nah, no need. The name will have to go, though. I don’t think Szatan fits very well in this continuum.”

“Satan? No surprise there.”

“ _Szatan_ , E.V.L. With a z.”

“Oh. So, change it when we neuralyze the guy?”

“Eeyup.”

The fic then shifted back an indeterminate time, making the agents stumble a bit, and described how another character, President Octavio, had stated that the Quarter Quell would have no sponsors as a testament to the “ **helessness** ” of the rebellion.

“You mean, ‘helplessness’?” asked E.V.L. “Unless you forgot an ‘l’ instead of a ‘p’, in which case it would be ‘hellishness.’”

“Given the circumstances, it wouldn’t make a difference,” Rayner replied dryly.

 

 

> **So Szatan ran back to his house, when his little sister Bach ran into his arms and started crying.**
> 
> **"Aw, man, you heard. Well, can you me a favor?" He pulled her away and tousled her blunde hair.**

 

The agents stared at the scene in morbid fascination. Bach’s hair was a bizarre and rather sickening combination of blue and blonde.

“Looks like we’ve found ‘blunette’ a lovely little cousin,” Rayner snarked.

“Yeesh, and I thought my onyx-colored locks of dark matter made physical looked hideous,” E.V.L. muttered.

“At least my retinas don’t get fried when I look at them,” her partner snorted at her. “Can’t say the same about my head, though. Urple prose gives me migraines.”

“Sorry. Okay, not really, but, well…”

He huffed impatiently. “Can we rescue Peeta now?”

“We’ll need to at least find _someone_ to kill, though. I’d rather not have you swipe any fruit from a poor District 11 family.”

“Food is food, you glittery sack o’ horse apples! Will you just shut the buck up already and help me take care o’ this dreck?!”

E.V.L. wisely decided not to argue. Instead, they watched Bach giving Szatan a token in the form of a cat-eared headband, which was promptly followed by him goofing off to make her happy for possibly the last time in his life. Then he headed off, and it was revealed that the point where the chapter had started was when he was boarding the train to the Capitol.

The agents snuck on board, and waited for something interesting to happen.

“We’ll have to find Peeta, at least,” said E.V.L. “Knowing what happened to him, the plot hole’s gotta be somewhere around either the arena or President Octavio’s place.”

“We’ll still need to take care of Szatan and Edward, though. They actually don’t seem too out of place in the canon. Whaddya say we neuralyze them first?”

“Sounds good.”

 

 

> **"Where's our mentor?" Szatan blurted.**
> 
> **"He's coming soon. I think he's still in his room. His name is Merlot. He won the ninety-sixth. He's quite competent."**
> 
> **"Hel-lo!" the mentor stepped into the coach. He looked about twenty. Merlot stared them down. "So we've got a moron and a downer. Whoo, this is gonna be a toughie." He was still smiling when the girl flung an orange at his face** — only for a rainbow-haired boy to catch it in mid-air, peel it open, and start eating it nonchalantly in front of them.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s been a change of plan,” Rayner said coolly.

“W-what the heck?!” Merlot (who indeed looked surprisingly young for his supposed age) asked in surprise.

“Who’s that?” asked Szatan, looking wildly around. “An Avox?”

“Actually, no,” said E.V.L. “We’re from the Capitol. We wanted to let you guys know that the one-hundredth annual Hunger Games has been officially canceled.”

“C-canceled?!” the female tribute stammered in total surprise.

“The Games should have technically been canceled since the 75th one,” Rayner replied, taking out the neuralyzer. “Look right this way, please.”

 

* * *

 

Some time later, the train arrived at the Capitol, but when the doors opened, the tributes — along with their mentor and escort — were nowhere to be seen. Maybe that was because the agents had returned them all to their home districts and let them assimilate into the canon.

Rayner and E.V.L. stepped out of the train, the former using the neuralyzer to clear out the large crowd that had gathered around the doors (i.e. telling them that the games had been disbanded and bidding them a good day). The agents then set out to find the plot hole.

It took a good half hour to find it, but ultimately, they didn’t get lucky until they tried looking in the former residence of the late President Snow.

Specifically, the plot hole was located in one of the walls of the room Seneca Crane had been locked in so long ago (at least in the movie version). The agents looked inside.

A young man with ashy blond hair lay at the end of the tunnel the plot hole led into. His clothes were torn, several gashes cris-crossed his back and limbs, and his bare feet were stained with blood.

Rayner had to cover his mouth with his sleeve to avoid breathing in the tempting scent, though he couldn’t stop staring at the canon’s toes. “If only he wasn’t in such a bad shape,” he whispered wistfully.

E.V.L. glanced at him in surprise. “You _really_ like him, don’t you?”

He blushed. “Look, it’s none of your business who I like. Let’s just get ’im to Medical before something bad happens.”

She smiled wryly. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe. Okay, okay. I’m surprised you figured out that I’m gay as soon as you did.”

“As soon as I did? I’ve been in your head for two months, Rayner. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you about it — though to be fair, I suppose you know that I’m bisexual as well, for the same reason.”

He rolled his pink eyes at her. “We can talk about our preferences some other day. Look, why don’t you get Peeta? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to refrain myself…”

She nodded, but before she could step into the plot hole…

“What’s going on here?!”

The agents turned towards the source of the voice. A generically menacing-looking character — President Octavio, Rayner guessed mentally — was standing in the doorway, his face screwed up in shock and anger and a Peacemaker’s gun in his hands.

“ _Ach du Scheiße,_ ” E.V.L. cursed. “How many times have I said that today? Three? Four, maybe?”

Rayner drew his machete, his pink eyes gleaming with revulsion. “President Octavio, by order of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, you are hereby convicted of the following charges: hosting a hundredth Hunger Games, in spite of the fact that the last one in canon was the 75th, killin’ Peeta Mellark, derailing the canon due to said killin’, questionable spellin’, making Effie Trinket lose an eye, sendin’  _handicapped people_ into the Hunger Games as tributes _without adequate preparation_ , failin’ to properly define your appearance (though that may be due to this badfic being left incomplete), and _did I already mention that you applebuckin’ KILLED OFF ONE OF MY LUST OBJECTS?!_ ”

Octavio aimed his gun at him. “I am the president, and you will do as I say. Get out of my mansion or you will die!”

“Look who’s talking!” Rayner snarled, baring his jagged teeth.

It was E.V.L. who moved first. She stepped in between the two males, her lips curled up in a smile. “Oh, but Mr. President,” she said sweetly. “Surely you won’t want to kill such a lovely girl like myself?”

Rayner looked at her, dumbfounded. Had this girl lost her mind _again?!_

“I don’t care about your looks,” Octavio growled. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you!”

She rolled her purple eyes at him. “All right, if you insist,” she said, raising her hands to display her fierce-looking claws. “Ladies first, right?”

E.V.L. slowly walked towards Octavio, not breaking eye contact. He glared at her, aiming his gun threateningly. She paused to give him a curious look, then walked around him, her hands still raised.

Octavio pointed his gun at Rayner, as though to say, “I’ll deal with you later.” Then he turned, poking the barrel of the gun into the small of her back. She giggled a little at this, but didn’t argue.

Rayner couldn’t believe what he was seeing. E.V.L. had surrendered herself so willingly, and now she was being led away to her fate. _This_ was his partner, even after two months of —

Before he could finish the thought, however, he realized that Octavio’s back was facing him, and E.V.L. sensed it in his thoughts as well. A single word jumped from her mind to his.

_Now._

Rayner had already started moving by the time President Octavio had heard him. The villainous bit character turned to fire — an instant too late. There was a clang of metal striking plastic, a clatter of a gun falling to the floor, and a sickening _schlock_ of cold steel meeting warm flesh.

The humanized pegasus had closed the full fifteen-foot gap with the antagonist, knocked the gun out of his arms with the Rainbolt, and sliced off his head with a single blow.

Octavio’s decapitated body stood there for a few seconds, and then slumped lifeless at Rayner’s feet, staining the carpet with urple glitter. The rainbow-haired agent’s limbs began trembling uncontrollably at the grisly sight, and he dropped his machete to the floor with a loud clang.

E.V.L. turned to her partner and saw the wild, manic gleam in his bloodshot eyes, his razor-toothed snarl, his crouching stance as though ready to spring. If she didn’t act quickly, he would attack the first living being in the room with a trace of glitter on it, and that was probably going to be her.

Then she remembered the box of syringes.

Rayner lunged before she could move, forcing her to sidestep; his teeth nicked her arm, but she was able to snatch his bag and, with a little struggling, pull it off of him. She kicked him to the ground, backed away, and emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor, instantly spotting the metal box and opening it.

“I am not sorry for this,” she said, pulling out a syringe just as Rayner lunged at her.

His partner dodged, just in time for him to smack into a wall and end up sprawled on the floor. Seizing the opportunity, she fell upon him, pinning his arm to the floor, and carefully slipped the needle tip under the skin of his forearm. She slowly pushed the plunger, making sure to give him his dose of medication before he could do anything else.

Rayner’s struggles became feeble, and then he lay still, his breathing becoming ragged. E.V.L. stood up, stepped carefully around him, and headed back to the plot hole.

Compared to getting rid of President Octavio, and especially sedating her partner, rescuing Peeta was a piece of cake to E.V.L., though there was the risk of having him wake up now that the badfic had been killed. Luckily, she managed to send him to Medical before he could wake up.

“And that takes care of that,” she said.

“Not quite,” her partner interjected, making her look around.

There was still the dead body of the bit character to attend to. Rayner had sat up, smelled the blood, and instantly covered his nose and mouth with his hand, struggling not to lose control.

“Oh, _der Hurensohn_ ,” E.V.L. grumbled. “What do we do?”

“I’d like to have a midnight snack, but maybe I shouldn’t dig in while you’re around,” said Rayner. “You know what, why don’t we just send it to the Kitchen? It’ll make a few days’ worth of Sue Soufflés, at least.”

“Sounds good,” she said, opening a portal. Together, the agents tossed the body through and let it fall to the floor with a _thunk_.

Rayner closed the portal, taking a deep breath. “Now that that’s done,” he said, “why don’t we go neuralyze anyone else involved? And after that… Capitol pantry raid!”

She looked at him with an exasperated expression. “Really, Rayner? _Really?_ ”

“Well, my fridge is still empty! So why not? It’s not like the Capitol folk will notice.”

She facepalmed, shaking her head. “You’re incorrigible, Rayner.”

“That’s what you said.”

 

* * *

 

**Post-Mission**

 

The agents returned to their RC at almost exactly five in the morning, and spent another ten minutes stowing away all of the food they’d “acquired”.

“So, hands off, right?” E.V.L. asked when they were done. “I’m not allowed to raid the fridge anymore?”

“No! Actually, well… At least _ask_ me first, okay?”

“All right, I’ll ask for anything you want. Like, for example, I know you’re gay, but would you still at least try a thing or two with me? The fact that I’m bi does mean —”

“It _doesn’t_ ,” Rayner snarled, sitting on his bed and unlacing his boots. “I was literally created from a slash fic. Since when did you get it in your head that partners are supposed to be romantic?”

“Don’t be silly, Rayner. _Every_ hero gets the girl in the end.”

“That’s what Sues think, and I disrespectfully disagree. And no, you’re not gonna empty my bag anymore, you’re not allowed to tranquilize me again, and you don’t get to sleep under my bed again tonight, either.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Then E.V.L. noticed his bare feet and asked innocently, “Can I at least still tickle you?”

His hand was on the RA before she could answer her own question.

Rayner quickly opened a portal and shoved his partner through, straight into the bunch of dandelion guards outside of the Sunflower’s office. “Put that thing back where it came from or so help me —” he called out hastily.

Before she could protest, he’d shut the portal behind her and stifled a yawn, mentally screening out the German obscenity that rang from her head to his own.

“Oh well,” he muttered tiredly. “Back to sleep!”

 

 

#  **[END]**

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the shortest mission I’ve published so far, though that’s probably because the fic itself doesn’t have very much content to begin with. Like Rayner said, it’s not complete, and the author probably abandoned it a while ago. Still, nobody kills my precious baby baker boy Peeta and gets away with it! NOBODY!!
> 
> On an unrelated note, I regret to announce that after I post the 2015 New Year’s Gift Exchange in document form, along with another interlude for my Floaters team, I’ll have to stop writing PPC fic until mid- to late March, for one critical reason: my dissertation defense. I’m expected to prepare all of the required documentation practically every waking hour now, so that means I won’t have time to write, beta-read, or talk to anyone until this thing’s done.
> 
> I’ll be back to business after March 12 (the date of my presentation). Until then, keep safe, and happy sporking!
> 
>  
> 
> -SkarmorySilver


End file.
